


wind + water (and all the chaos in-between)

by Anonymous



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, sometimes i like to make joshua suffer, this is just some good ole 95 line content i always crave, this will not be one of those times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jisoo's happy in that obscure kind of way that means everything is going great for him, but he always feels like there's something missing.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	1. The Tide

Somehow, even after all the ominous warnings that find a way to catch his attention, Jisoo still ends his day with Jeonghan. His hand is running through strands of color Jisoo can't quite put a name to but thinks is beautiful either way. They're stretched out across College Hill, a misnomer for the piece of land that barely makes it to the end of Jisoo's sight. But the grass is green. The sky is blue. The wind is blowing softly to give Jisoo a reason to move a little closer.

And Jeonghan is talking. 

Jisoo will swear later that he listened to every word and Jeonghan will look at him and smile. Then punch him slightly on his upper arm because Jeonghan might be a little bit careless sometimes, but he's anything but stupid. And he's gotten Jisoo all figured out a long time ago. 

But Jisoo is listening today. Sort of. He's caught snippets of words here and there. Enough for him to get that Jeonghan is mildly complaining about his organization's semi-annual trip this weekend. He's only going because it's mandatory and he's the vice president. Jisoo is still in awe that Jeonghan has managed to stick with one group of people for so long.

"I vetoed alcohol but apparently it's unconstitutional in the College Bill of Rights." Jeonghan huffs out a breath and leans more into Jisoo's chest. The heat is mild so Jisoo decides to let him be and gets more comfortable, arm bending a little so he can still play with Jeonghan's hair. Jisoo wonders if they look as comfortable as he feels and wishes Seungcheol was here to take a picture for him. 

"Hey, does your org have a copy of that?" 

Jeonghan blows at a bee that's flown too close to his face. "It's actually kept locked in a display case like it's a holy bible or something. I swear, these children..."

"Half of them are older than you."

"Doesn't mean they're not children." Jisoo relents with a hum and presses a cheek to the top of Jeonghan's head. He smells like honey and vanilla. It's the perfect combination to attract every bee in a five-mile radius and to make Jisoo feel at ease. Despite the bleaching, his hair is still as soft as ever. Jisoo would be jealous if he didn't know how serious Jeonghan takes hair care. The amount of time he spends deep conditioning and masking would be enough to drive Jisoo a bit wild with all the chemicals. But Jeonghan and his scalp are the best of friends and Jisoo knows to never visit every other Tuesday.

"So, does that mean you can't borrow it?" 

"I can." Jeonghan nods his head to displace Jisoo so he could turn around. "Why? Is Seungcheol still on about that?" With Jeonghan's chin resting on his chest, Jisoo goes cross-eyed trying to look at him.

"Yea. He brought it up yesterday, actually. I don't think he's gonna let this one go."

Jeonghan stares off to the left of Jisoo for a moment before settling down in his previous position, back against Jisoo's chest, hair softly flying to tickle Jisoo's nose. "Sometimes you make him sound like an idiot."

Jisoo laughs loudly. 

"He is."

***

Jisoo slams the book down on the table. Well, it's less a book and more just a stack of papers that look like they've passed through a thousand too many hands, bound together carelessly by a piece of fabric. Jisoo is also a thousand percent sure that the ancient quality has been fabricated. Its execution is subpar if he has any opinion about it. And he does. However, it doesn't stop Seungcheol's eyes from lighting up in immediate recognition. Jisoo would roll his eyes if he wasn't nearly tackled a second later, arms wound too tight around his body to be comfortable. Except it is. Because it's Seungcheol, and everything is comfortable with him.

"No fucking way! You found it!" Seungcheol is loud in his ears, like he is most times. Jisoo likes it when he's not, though this is fine too. Jisoo's gotten used to all the ringing resounding in his head. 

"More like Jeonghan gave it to me. But, yeah."

Seungcheol's lips meet Jisoo's cheek for shorter than it takes Jisoo to register any of the looks they're being given for being extra loud in a quiet study lounge. 

"Thank him for me," Seungcheol says as he lets Jisoo go, smile still bright as ever. Jisoo finally feels the chill of the room settle onto his skin and shivers. They don't sit down. "When I prove them wrong, I'm gonna buy you the best polaroid camera their money can buy."

Jisoo does get the chance to roll his eyes, and he's obnoxious about it. His flair is useless since Seungcheol only has eyes for the imitation history book full of mottos and mantras that, to the outsider, make the student culture on their campus seem mindless. Jisoo now gets why his mom was apprehensive of his choice before. "Photography is your thing, Cheol."

"You can give the camera to me then," Seungcheol jokes. He's good at that. Jisoo lets the smile settle easy on his lips and sneaks a hand in Seungcheol's back pocket.

"Just take me to dinner instead or something." Seungcheol glances at Jisoo for a moment before his attention is pulled back to the substandard stack of papers on the table. It was only a second but Jisoo caught the emotion in his eyes and it makes him want to touch Seungcheol's skin. So he does, running a hand across his cheek to stop at his ear and finger with his piercing. 

"It's a date." Jisoo can hear the smile in Seungcheol's voice. The content. His honesty flows out so easy and so constant. There's so much of Seungcheol Jisoo uses as an anchor.

"Isn't it always?" Jisoo is teasing, always making sure to swim in waters he's sure about.

"You should invite him." Seungcheol's voice is soft when he suggests and Jisoo feels like he's drowning. But he leans his head on Seungcheol's shoulder and lets his sureness lead him back to solid ground. 

"Okay."

***

Jisoo has been preparing himself to be without his every-other-day friend for the last couple days. He's stocked up on some books from the library, made a list of shows he's gonna catch up on, told Seungcheol he'd be over at his apartment more. He's determined to not be bored. But more so, he's determined to not miss Jeonghan too much. It's only for a weekend. Barely three days.

"You lived a whole 20 years without me, Jisoo. You're gonna be fine."

"I know." They both do, but sometimes Jisoo likes to be the dramatic one. With his arms wound so tight around Jeonghan that he can see his own veins, Jisoo deems this as one of those times.

"Then will you please let me go? I'm the vice president and I can't be late. I told everyone that if they weren't on the bus by 7:15 I was limiting them to one drink a night." Jisoo notices how Jeonghan's words don't match his actions. How instead of pushing his arms away, his fingers have laced with Jisoo's and he's pulling him closer. There are magnets strategically placed all over Jeonghan's body specifically made to attract Jisoo from every angle. He’s too embarrassed to liken it to gravity. Thinks too highly of himself to become a moon.

"It's only..." Jisoo turns to look at Jeonghan's alarm clock beside his bed. Why he even has one is still a mystery to Jisoo. "Six fifty-three. You have time." Jisoo will not let a good whine go to waste if he thinks it might work in his favor. With Jeonghan, that's almost always.

"Two more minutes. Then I have to leave, Jisoo. Really." Jeonghan's head is on Jisoo's shoulder. Jisoo's cheek ruffles Jeonghan's hair. 

Jisoo gives a noncommittal hum. "Can I get a kiss goodbye?"

Jeonghan's fingers twitch in his and Jisoo holds tighter. He can't press hard enough. It's almost painful how much he needs to keep his grasp on the boy who always winds his way through every crevice in Jisoo's life. There's Jeonghan's hair on his pillow, Jeonghan's notes in his textbook, Jeonghan's soap in his shower. Jeonghan's essence in his pores. 

"If you weren't so cute, I would've kicked you out hours ago," Jeonghan's sigh on his neck.

Jisoo's stretching somewhere only just out of reach and he feels it. "I said kiss not kick." 

"I know what you said, Shua." By the time Jeonghan ends with the nickname his voice is barely a whisper in Jisoo's ears. Still so very different from Seungcheol's rasp but giving Jisoo the same goosebumps along his skin. Jisoo closes his eyes and inhales the air Jeonghan gives him to breathe. Full of honey and vanilla. Too sweet for the bees, but not for Jisoo to come and take his fill.

Except he’s never full.

"He wants me to invite you to dinner," he says. There are thoughts of a hurricane building somewhere out in the open horizon. But right in front of him is Jeonghan and he smells like a storm warning.

"Oh?"

"To thank you for the Bill of Rights."

Jeonghan's fingers loosen around his, letting the air twirl around the empty space. "You know I can't say no to a free meal."

"Neither can I."

"Your two minutes are up." Jisoo lets him go now, because if he didn't, he thinks it wouldn’t be too long before he suffocates. "We'll see when I get back."

"Be safe," Jisoo says as he struggles to breathe in as much of Jeonghan as he can. He waits for the reply two seconds into extending his exhale. 

"Be happy." 

Jeonghan rushes out the door, leaving a tornado in his wake and Jisoo free falling through the air. 

***

They're surrounded by a mass of junk Jisoo would never consider appropriate if this was his own apartment. But it isn't. It's Seungcheol's, so therefore it's fine. He's on the floor in front of the couch while Seungcheol is on his stomach spread starfish an arm's length away. Jisoo only stops playing with Seungcheol's hair when he has to turn a page in his textbook, so he makes sure to read just a little bit slower as Seungcheol makes his way through half the snacks in the apartment. 

The chips he bought were Seungcheol's favorite. The barbeque flavor that Jisoo can only stomach once a year but can tolerate its smell more easily. It's very rare Jisoo doesn't wonder how they taste on Seungcheol's tongue.

"We have to plan our date," Seungcheol says with a pen in his mouth and ink on his fingers. 

It's Jisoo's pen, and he will most likely let him keep it. "Don't you dare think of using me as a distraction from your assignment."

"But math is so bleh."

"Says the literal math major."

"I just want to teach kids." Seungcheol rolls closer to Jisoo and lays his head on Jisoo's feet. Jisoo wiggles his toes to measure his weight. He's heavy and just the right size to make Jisoo feel secure. He sets his book on Seungcheol's chest, written words forgotten and replaced by a more soothing story Jisoo already knows.

"But you chose to teach them math. What a tragedy,” he teases, smiling in that way Seungcheol always makes his lips curl. “You could've just become a coach or something."

"Maybe later."

"At least the kids will love you."

Seungcheol searches his eyes. "You think so?" 

Jisoo blinks and he feels the rush of water travel beneath his skin. He blinks again and Seungcheol's hand inside his calms the waves.

"You're a very loveable person, Cheol." He blinks again and Seungcheol smiles.

"Thanks. I think so too." He doesn't know who squeezes but there's less space between their hands and more heat. For a moment they're closer.

Jisoo helps Seungcheol up to sit beside him. Their four bent knees a picture of symmetry Jisoo feels is somehow off. They're not close enough.

Studying is discarded when Seungcheol stands to stretch his muscles, his one tell that he's done for the day. Jisoo instead lets his gaze linger on the ripples beneath Seungcheol's skin, lost in wonder because he knows its entire expanse by heart. Its color and texture, its temperature. He knows just how deep Seungcheol is willing to let him go. 

Jisoo just has to jump in.

"He said he'd think about it." Seungcheol looks down, always one to give his full attention to whoever is speaking. Even if that person is Jisoo and avoiding eye contact by all means. The height difference makes Jisoo want to melt down into Seungcheol's blue shag rug. "That we'd talk about it when he came back, but that he couldn't say no to a free meal."

"Sounds like him." Seungcheol crouches in front of Jisoo, hands coming to rest on his knees. Jisoo makes eye contact, not at all surprised at the excitement that is pouring out of the man in front of him. "That's practically a yes."

It is. 

"Yeah." 

"Alright then." Seungcheol slaps Jisoo's knees, not hard at all, but Jisoo flinches anyway. "So, our choices are..."

Jisoo shakes his head, picks up Seungcheol's forgotten assignment and shoves it in his face. "Math, math, and more math." Seungcheol falls out of his crouch and away from Jisoo, who takes the moment to ground himself. "Congratulations, Cheol, you've hit the jackpot!"

"Soo." And it's all for nothing when Jisoo feels that familiar pressure burning down his throat to invade his lungs.

"We'll talk about it later."

"I'm starting to think you don't want us to meet." Apprehension sneaks its way underneath Seungcheol’s attempt to keep the conversation light. So Jisoo grabs his hand, knowing that while it lets Seungcheol know that he's not trying to be contrary, it's more for the feeling of relief that rushes through him at the contact. 

Jisoo is still in control.

"I'm surprised you still haven't. I mean, he goes here too. Maybe you already did," He reaches, but Seungcheol shakes his head. 

"I think I would know if I met him." Jisoo picks out the emotion in his words and deflates at the longing on Seungcheol's face.

"Probably.” An image of Seungcheol and Jeonghan together in front of him is enough to make Jisoo's mind travel down a well-worn path of uncertainty. And if it's cloudy and rainy, he likes to pretend he doesn't know why. “He’s not easy to forget.”

***

Three days pass in two long blinks that make Jisoo feel like he missed something important. But Jeonghan is back and the world can feel dry again. 

"I can carry my own bags," Jeonghan jokes to Jisoo behind his empty hands and fresh tan, climbing the stairs to his apartment with ease. Jisoo isn't complaining, though, because it's just two small duffels that give him the balance he's lost somewhere in Seungcheol's apartment over the last few days. 

"I know," Jisoo says, "but this way, I have an excuse to be invited in."

"Since when do you need an excuse?" Jeonghan's hand is resting on his doorknob, the other twirling his keys as he stares at Jisoo amused. Jisoo takes in his tired eyes and messy hair and pretty smile and thinks a good welcome home activity would be for them to just curl in bed and sleep. Jeonghan would like that and Jisoo would get to satisfy his need to reacquaint himself with Jeonghan's presence. 

"I'm trying to be polite," Jisoo grunts because while the bags aren't heavy, he's been carrying them for a while and his arms are starting to ache. Though not as much as his chest when Jeonghan smiles and calls him a gentleman. 

"Please just open the door."

Jeonghan obliges, tapping Jisoo's butt as he passes threshold and laughing when he almost falls over.

"You should start working out with Seungcheol. You're so weak."

"I will never do that." Jisoo declares when he finally makes it to the couch, Jeonghan's bags carefully discarded in the corner and a window slightly cracked to let out the stale air. He won't admit that he might be just a little bit winded from the four flights of stairs. Jeonghan joins him on the couch with a glass of water anyway because he already knows. 

"I think it might be fun."

"Fun?" Jisoo tries not to choke on his drink and is grateful when Jeonghan starts rubbing his back to calm the coughing. "Since when would working out be fun?"

"Since it turned out I couldn't walk a three-mile hike without losing my breath every thirty seconds." 

Jisoo laughs at Jeonghan's exaggerated despair. He leans his head back and settles more into the couch as Jeonghan moves the hand from Jisoo's lower back down to his thigh. The motions are so fluid and soothing to Jisoo's skin even through his clothing. 

"That is pretty bad." He says and closes his eyes. Jeonghan's couch is sturdier than Seungcheol's, courtesy of it being newer and made from a more durable material. But Jisoo feels just at home in Jeonghan's apartment. Especially when Jeonghan stretches out beside him and lays his head on Jisoo's lap.

"I'm so out of shape." The weight on Jisoo's thighs is warm and welcome. Jeonghan’s eyes are closed and Jisoo doesn’t know if it’s because he’s tired or just thinking.

"Cheol works out at the place on 24th next to the tea shop."

Jeonghan hums and turns his head so his face is now pressed against Jisoo’s stomach. "The one Seokmin always goes to?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Maybe I'll go check it out." Jisoo muses over the probability of that happening anytime soon and laughs softly.

"Let me know if you do."

"You gonna tag along?"

“You already know the answer to that.”

They slip into a silence disturbed only by the sounds let in through the open window. Jisoo’s hands ever-present in Jeonghan’s hair, while Jeonghan’s steady breaths warm his skin through his shirt. Jisoo almost thinks he’s fallen asleep before there’s a soft whisper tickling his stomach.

"I missed you," Jeonghan says, and it’s enough to make Jisoo’s hands falter, only just long enough for him to calm the currents in his mind before he can settle on a response. Long enough for Jeonghan to reach blindly and take hold of one of his hands, fingers curling around each other naturally.

"That was supposed to be my line." Jisoo’s words are as light as the breeze that passes through the apartment. It’s almost as if being with Jeonghan in his home erases the roughness of their existence, strips them down till their barest senses.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Nothing special."

"Did you eat him out of a house?"

Jisoo’s laugh is loud and breaks the spell of their whispers. "Y'know he does that all by himself."

"But my Shua has gained some pounds." Jeonghan’s lips pout against Jisoo’s stomach, almost like a kiss. He has felt a little extra weight around his midsection lately, but he doesn’t mind it much. It’ll be gone in the next few days anyway as he adjusts back to his own eating schedule and balances Seungcheol’s junk food with Jeonghan’s lean appetite.

Jisoo shrugs. "When he eats, I eat."

"You're literally his baby. He feeds you, clothes you.” Jeonghan pushes back a bit to study Jisoo’s face. “Don't you guys shower together?"

"Only because if I wait for him to finish, he'd use all the hot water." Jeonghan nods and resumes his place on Jisoo’s lap, breath now hotter against his skin.

"You should just move in with him. It’s not like you’re ever at your own apartment."

Jisoo’s been thinking about it a lot, moving in with either one of them. But he can’t figure it out. He doesn’t know which of their places makes him feel more at home. Moreover, it just doesn’t feel right to choose at all. He spends no more time at Seungcheol’s than he does at Jeonghan’s. But maybe Jeonghan is right. When he’s at Seungcheol’s, there’s a spare room for him (that he rarely uses, but that’s beside the point), an abundance of food, 1/3 of his wardrobe. But at Jeonghan’s there’s a different sense of belonging, one that buries its way deep into Jisoo’s bones. It’s the place that feels most like his own. Maybe it really is as simple as Jeonghan makes it out to be.

"I don't know," he settles.

"He said the offer will always be open. Just take it." Jisoo notices Jeonghan’s words slowing along with his breathing and guesses it’s about time for that welcome home nap he was thinking of earlier. So, he wraps an arm around Jeonghan, pulls him so that their entire bodies are flush together and Jeonghan’s face is now nuzzled into the crook of his neck. When Jeonghan sighs against his skin, Jisoo isn’t any surer where he’s going to end up when his lease ends.

***

When Jisoo wants to spend a few hours away from the ruckus of university life, he hops on the bus and rides the ten minutes to Jeonghan’s place where he’s welcomed with peace and quiet and quality films. There’s also cuddling and popcorn, which Jeonghan makes sure to keep stocked just for him, on most occasions.

When Jisoo feels like he’s taken too many wrong turns and he’s crossed that threshold where nothing makes sense and it becomes him against the world for what seems like an eternity, he walks ten minutes in the opposite direction to Seungcheol’s place where he’s allowed to drink all the hot chocolate and eat all the ice cream and take up all the space on the couch, and even the bed, until he feels right again.

When Jisoo needs both, he usually just goes whining to his neighbor across the hall about the cruel fact that he can’t have his two favorite people in one place.

“You do know that you have your own apartment, right?”

Jisoo blinks up at Seokmin, confused about his addition to the conversation that has nothing to do with how he is supposed to choose where to go. He supposed he should just set up a turn system, but he can’t remember who’s place he went to last time this happened, so he doesn’t feel like it’s right to decide at random either.

“What about it?” Seokmin looks down at him with a deadpan expression that confuses Jisoo even more. When Seokmin realizes he’s serious, he rolls his eyes and goes back to carefully attempting to hang a giant framed photo of himself and Soonyoung taken during their last school holiday when they went hiking.

“The fact that you haven’t thought of the simple solution to your so-called dilemma makes me not even want to tell you.”

Jisoo huffs from his place on Seokmin’s very large, very comfortable couch. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You quite literally barged through my front door yelling ‘ _Seokmin, tell me what I should do._ ’ Much like you do every time you come here.”

“I do not,” Jisoo argues, except he can’t think of anything to corroborate his claims. Which probably means Seokmin is telling the truth and Jisoo is an asshole.

“I’m starting to think you’re only using me as a makeshift therapist.” Seokmin finally manages to hang the photo so that it’s mostly straight and steps down from the chair. Jisoo uses this as an opportunity to satiate his need for touch, bounding over to wrap his arms around Seokmin. “I’m going to start charging a fee at the door.”

“Minnie, you know I love you.” His tone is playful, but Jisoo hopes that his sincerity is conveyed somehow to his slightly irritated friend. He is rewarded with a pat on the head that has him almost beaming.

“I do not know this. But thanks for the half-assed confession.”

“Please accept my love,” Jisoo begs. He is not above begging. And he also desperately doesn’t want Seokmin to ever start locking his door, except maybe when Soonyoung is over. Meeting Seokmin across the hall when he first moved in felt like Jisoo had used up his last piece of luck. It was through Seokmin that he met both Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

Seokmin lifts Jisoo, walks them both to the couch, and flops down with Jisoo on top of him, just the way Jisoo likes the most. Jisoo practically melts into him. Seokmin is wider than Jeonghan, but smaller than Seungcheol. He is Jisoo’s calm medium.

“Are you this easy with them?” Seokmin asks, “I can’t imagine how you’re still single.”

Jisoo stops fiddling with the hem of Seokmin’s shirt, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

Seokmin scoffs softly and gently directs Jisoo’s face till they're staring at each other. “Don’t turn yourself into a cliché, Jisoo. Or I _will_ start locking my door.”

Jisoo doesn’t hold his gaze. Instead he maneuvers out of Seokmin’s hold till there’s enough space between them on the couch that Jisoo doesn’t feel like he can see every emotion obvious from the curl of his eyebrows.

“How are you and Soonyoung?” he asks, because Seokmin hasn’t made it past the stage where any mention of his boyfriend doesn’t make his mind wander, and Jisoo wants to quickly move past this conversation. Thankfully, Seokmin understands the hint, but not enough to take the bait.

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be having a crisis or whatever? And yknow, leaving my apartment soon?”

“Why travel ten minutes anywhere,” Jisoo says, swaying just slightly back into Seokmin’s orbit, “when I can just walk across the hall and be blessed by your handsome face?”

“Glad to know your laziness makes me your third choice.”

“If you weren’t so mean, you’d be number one.”

“And if you weren’t so dense,” Seokmin muses, “you’d realize you could just invite them both over to your place _at the same time._ ”

Joshua’s eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that, but he can already see all the ways the scenario would end with only more problems for himself.

“Seokmin, you’re a –”

“Don’t say it,” Seokmin interrupts with a wave, “Just get out of my apartment.”

“I was gonna say idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t invite them both over to my place.” With Seokmin’s attention, Jisoo can finally explain why his blood turns cold at just the thought of Seungcheol and Jeonghan together in his apartment. Seungcheol and Jeonghan together. Seungcheol and Jeonghan. They’ve already become one item in his mind that he can’t separate. He doesn’t know what it would mean if it became a reality. “They haven’t even met yet and we’re supposed to be having some kind of dinner thing together soon and I can’t have them over before then.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just kind of…I don’t know.” Jisoo finds a stain on Seokmin’s rug and focuses on it, unsure of how he can convey his jumbled thoughts into coherent sentences that would make him understand. “It would mess everything up.”

“Mess what up?” Seokmin presses. He’s kept his distance on the couch and Jisoo is thankful for it. “How?”

That’s a good question Jisoo wishes he knew the answer to. He also kind of wishes Seokmin would stop asking him good questions because he’s starting to get a bit lost in all the snapshots of Seungcheol and Jeonghan on his couch, in his kitchen, watching his television.

“Everything.”

“That answers all my questions. Thanks.”

Jisoo sighs into his hands, regretting all his decisions that led him to this moment of confessing something he’s not even sure of. “It seems wrong. I don’t know why, it just does. And it makes me feel weird and anxious.”

Seokmin gives a thoughtful hum. “Do you not want them to meet or something?”

Like a knee-jerk reaction, Jisoo shakes his head furiously. “No. I want them to meet. It’s not that.”

There’s a moment of silence as Seokmin waits for Jisoo to voice what they’re both coming to conclude. Because even though Jisoo feels like he’s being hit by a tidal wave of emotions, they’ve been gradually making way for this conversation in all the spontaneous apartment break-ins, the late-night talks, Jisoo’s slow revelation. He still has his head in his hands, but he feels when Seokmin wraps an arm around his shoulders. Jisoo melts into his side.

“You’re afraid of what’s going to change after they meet.” Seokmin leaves no room for him to argue or deny.

“They’re my best friends.” And deep inside, Jisoo knows that as soon as they meet it’s going to seem as if they’ve known each other forever. That’s just how things go with them. They’re both so easy and open. They wouldn’t have to try hard for Jisoo’s sake. “I want them to like each other.”

“Just not more than they like you?”

Jisoo blinks once, twice, lets the words settle around him.

“Yeah.”

Seokmin gives Jisoo’s shoulders a squeeze, pulls him just a little bit closer. “Nothing is going to change. They both care for you a lot and, if anything, they will just care for you together.” And yeah, Jisoo gets that. But it’s something else he’s worried about, something else that always pricks the back of his mind whenever he hears Jeonghan nonchalantly bring Seungcheol up in a conversation or when Seungcheol asks him about how Jeonghan is doing and sends him down a whirlpool of insecurities.

Jisoo buries his head in Seokmin’s shoulder, lets out a silent exhale. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Then you’re an idiot. They won’t leave you.” Seokmin talks like there’s nothing in the universe he’s more certain of and it does absolutely nothing to rid Jisoo of his fears. Seokmin hasn’t sat with Seungcheol and seen the longing in his eyes. He hasn’t heard Jeonghan making amends to his schedule and behavior on account of whatever Seungcheol is doing somewhere far off and especially out of Jisoo’s mind. None of this would make sense to the outsider, but Jisoo’s right there always in the heart of the storm. When everything clears, he always comes to the same conclusion.

“They’d be perfect for each other.”

He doesn’t know when he started crying, but Seokmin takes his tears in stride, hands rubbing circles into his back.

“They’re perfect for you too,” he says. And Jisoo believes him, if only for the time it takes him to dry his eyes and decide which direction he’ll go once he leaves Seokmin’s apartment for the evening. He just lets his feet lead him and gives his head a rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my wips for a while and taunting me to finish it. so I'm trying to do just that! 
> 
> comments are very much appreciated and help me remember that I don't actually suck at writing :)


	2. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We. Have. A. date,” Seungcheol repeats. And this should be a good thing, should have Jisoo nearly to the moon with his own excitement and anticipation that his two favorite people in the world are finally getting a chance to meet each other – like all the pieces are finally coming together to complete the puzzle Jisoo has spent countless nights lying awake trying to finish on his own.
> 
> Except this puzzle is all types of warped and distorted, another unexplained phenomenon the universe concocted just to screw with Jisoo’s sense of control. When Jisoo looks at Seungcheol, he feels that control slipping right through his fingers, seeping through all the cracks he was too careless to patch up, and the ones he hadn’t known existed in the first place. It’s how he realizes they might not actually fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update......after a month......

Jisoo treasures the breaks he has in-between classes. He spends days – nearly a whole week – planning his schedule perfectly to allow time sufficient enough for lunch, a nap, maybe even a spontaneous trip to the cat café twenty minutes away. He makes sure to send all his friends his schedule at the beginning of each semester, so they know the exact times he is not to be bothered. He’s very particular about this, though he usually makes exceptions for serious emergencies.

However, to his small group of friends, “serious emergencies” usually translates to minor wardrobe malfunctions (Jeonghan), recipe tasting (Seokmin), last minute test prep (Soonyoung), and, well, whatever mess Seungcheol manages to get himself into over the weekend that he can’t clear up before Monday arrives. 

It’s why Jisoo finds himself on the collaborative floor of the library, textbook open, waiting for Seungcheol to grace him with his presence after one frantic text message. He’d be more worried that something was actually wrong if Seungcheol sending him these kinds of messages was sparser and more purposeful. As it happens, Jisoo receives so many SOSs from him that he wonders how he’ll be able to discern when Seungcheol has an actual emergency (or when he’ll finally be able to visit that cat café).

Seungcheol walks in – right on time because Jisoo is always early – with a smile on his face that immediately makes Jisoo want to be swept away into the next ten years. Where he and Seungcheol have a child, maybe two. And Jisoo has spent his day off relaxing and cooking, and this is what he sees when Seungcheol comes home – bright and cheery even after a long day at work – walking towards him with intent, gathering him in his arms for a hug that lasts a beat too long before bringing Jisoo along into a world that’s just for them, though probably not the most fitting for a public space.

The fantasy evaporates when Seungcheol lets him go.

“We have a date!” He tells Jisoo while bouncing on his toes. It takes Jisoo’s mind half a second to process that Seungcheol is talking about whatever they’re supposed to be planning with – for? – Jeonghan and that it’s also been over a week since the last time anyone has brought it up. He’d pushed it so far to the back of his mind that the act of remembering almost knocks him unsteady. Out of sight, out of mind works perfectly when he’s planning ways to effectively procrastinate on his university assignments, but not so much when it comes to pitting his silent rebellion against Seungcheol’s near tangible determination. So, Jisoo returns Seungcheol’s smile, because it’s all he can do not to flee from his shining eyes.

“You picked a date?” He asks, attempting to imitate Seungcheol’s excitement till he can pass it off as his own.

Seungcheol nods, the loose strands of his hair creating lives of their own and Jisoo moves to calm them down. He keeps his hand there – partly for good measure, but mostly because he knows Seungcheol likes the feeling.

“We. Have. A. date,” Seungcheol repeats. And this should be a good thing, should have Jisoo nearly to the moon with his own excitement and anticipation that his two favorite people in the world are finally getting a chance to meet each other – like all the pieces are finally coming together to complete the puzzle Jisoo has spent countless nights lying awake trying to finish on his own.

Except this puzzle is all types of warped and distorted, another unexplained phenomenon the universe concocted just to screw with Jisoo’s sense of control. When Jisoo looks at Seungcheol, he feels that control slipping right through his fingers, seeping through all the cracks he was too careless to patch up, and the ones he hadn’t known existed in the first place. It’s how he realizes they might not actually fit together.

Jisoo takes Seungcheol by his hand, sits him down at the table and pats his cheek. He watches Seungcheol lean into the touch, eyes hooded, and wonders what it is he’s about to agree to.

“Tell me all the gory details.”

And he does. He tells Jisoo that he’s made a lunch (not dinner) reservation at Don’s Kitchen for noon on Wednesday – today is Monday – because that’s the only time all their schedules match up for an hour break. He adds that it’s okay if they need to reschedule since this is pretty last minute, but he also knows that neither Jisoo nor Jeonghan have anything particular planned for this Wednesday and that he really can’t stand to push things back any longer since next week is midterms and who knows what the second half of the semester is going to offer.

And Jisoo hears him, hears it all, but he doesn’t think he’s gotten to the point of processing the information dump. All he can really think about is that today is Monday. His world is shifting in two days. And he might be being a tad bit dramatic, but two days – really just one day and some hours – feels like not enough time to prepare himself for all the _change._

“Can I trust you to pass along the details to Jeonghan or am I going to have to steal his number from your phone while you’re pretending to listen to me?”

Seungcheol’s voice brings Jisoo out of his own thoughts, calm and steady and singular.

Still singular.

It’s still just the two of them right now. That’s what he should focus on instead of the endless flux of helplessness making his hands shake.

He gives Seungcheol one more smile while he digs his phone out of his pocket. It feels like the only expression he’s able to pull off without alerting him to everything happening inside his mind.

For another half-second Jisoo thinks about telling Seungcheol that he doesn’t have Jeonghan’s number saved. That he rebooted his phone last night and lost all his contacts, his messages, everything. But Jisoo’s never been great at lying and it wouldn’t be that believable in the first place. So, he pulls up Jeonghan’s contact and waits for him to pick up on the third ring.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jeonghan’s voice, usually an instant comfort for Jisoo, floods him with an awful disquiet despite its liveliness. 

“Put him on speaker!” Seungcheol whisper-yells and Jisoo looks at him with panic in his eyes, a decisive _no_ on his lips. But the fight leaves him when Seungcheol frowns, his lower lip jutting out to form a pout. Jisoo has always been weak to that particular tactic of his and curses internally as he turns the speaker on, placing the phone between them on the table.

“Who is that?” Jeonghan asks, but before Seungcheol can answer Jisoo slaps a hand over his mouth and shakes his head.

“We have a date,” He continues, because the faster he can get this conversation over with, the faster he can pretend like his head isn’t getting a little hazy as he hears Jeonghan’s voice in real time while sitting here with Seungcheol.

Jisoo drops his hand, avoiding the question in Seungcheol’s eyes. He doesn’t remember this ever being a problem before.

“Well isn’t this exciting,” Jeonghan muses, and Jisoo can tell that he’s delighted by all of this. A simple exchange of worthless sheets of papers and suddenly he’s got a free meal at the most renowned restaurant on this side of town. Jisoo isn’t jealous, he’s invited too, but there was something nagging at him when Jeonghan said he could get used to being spoiled like Jisoo has always been courtesy of Seungcheol. 

“It’s this Wednesday at noon at Don’s Kitchen,” Jisoo presses on.

There’s a pause.

He feels like maybe this is where Jeonghan will refuse to accept. He’ll say something about Don’s Kitchen being too expensive, or two days is too early, or that maybe, just maybe, he suddenly has plans that can’t be canceled.

“That’s in two days,” is all Jeonghan replies.

At this, Jisoo chances a look at Seungcheol. His teeth are biting into his bottom lip – a habit Jisoo has been trying to knock him out of for the better half of two years – and his brow is furrowed. The excitement from earlier is replaced by uncertainty and it’s enough to set Jisoo’s mind straight. He remembers that this isn’t for him, it’s for Seungcheol. Because he’s a man who can’t stand to let a good deed go unrecognized. Because he has the softest heart and endless pockets that makes him want to give and give and give until he can’t possibly give anymore. Because Jisoo adores him and he doesn’t want to keep him from something he so obviously wants with his entire being.

And because it’s Jeonghan.

“You don’t have any plans,” Jisoo reminds him.

Jeonghan’s laugh reaches them through the speaker. “You’re talking like you’ve already agreed.” And, oh, the reaction is immediate. Seungcheol’s shoulders untense and his smile returns and Jisoo’s heart twists just a little bit tighter.

“I also don’t have any plans,” Jisoo acknowledges, as if he didn’t agree to this the moment Seungcheol first suggested they invite Jeonghan. But that week feels like forever ago in terms of Jisoo’s grip on reality.

“Then I guess it’s a date,” Jeonghan says with the finality of a judge and Jisoo wonders why the universe wants to punish him.

 _This isn’t a punishment. It’s –_

“I guess it’s a date,” Jisoo mumbles, but the phone is on speaker and Jeonghan hears him anyway. 

“You said he’s paying for this right? His treat?”

Upon mention, Jisoo remembers that Seungcheol is watching him, listening to him, taking notes on his behavior like he always does. He can only imagine what messages his body language has been giving off for the past couple of minutes. He’s not displaying the emotions he should, and if the look Seungcheol is giving him is any indication, he’s being obvious about it. So, he tries to play it off with yet another smile, a ghost of a laugh.

Until he feels like he has to hang up in the next thirty seconds or he’s going to have his feelings explode everywhere when he hasn’t even had his afternoon cup of coffee yet. 

“Yeah. Be safe, Hani.”

There’s another pause where Jisoo thinks maybe Jeonghan will say something about what he no doubt picked up in his voice. But all he hears is a soft, “Be happy, Shua. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and the call ends.

Jisoo avoids looking directly at Seungcheol as he immediately starts packing up his things, but he stops when a hand wraps gently around his wrist.

“Soo?” Jisoo knows that tone, is afraid of the things it has the power to make him do, think, feel. If he asked, Jisoo would sit back down, bury his head in his hands and tell Seungcheol everything he’s been feeling lately, list all the things he doesn’t want to change. But Seungcheol says nothing more – or Jisoo doesn’t give him the chance before he’s pulling his arm away.

“I have class,” Jisoo says before walking off, leaving Seungcheol alone at the table.

***

Jisoo finishes his classes Tuesday evening and, for the first time since they’ve met, he dreads the walk to Jeonghan’s. They’ve messaged since what Jisoo likes to call his Little Fiasco the day before, but it’s been casual and standard. Seungcheol also seems to be giving him space he didn’t ask for, and so Jisoo isn’t feeling his best by the time he’s using his spare key to unlock Jeonghan’s apartment. Although, the comforting smell of popcorn that greets him does wonders for calming his nervous system.

Jeonghan meets him at the door before he’s done toeing off his shoes. It’s awkward for a moment. Or maybe Jisoo only thinks it’s awkward because he’s carried in his outside baggage through the door, free of charge and now subject to Jeonghan’s inspection.

Jeonghan has a bowl of popcorn in his hands and a blanket hanging off his shoulders, the perfect picture of comfort to settle Jisoo’s nerves.

“Movie night?” Jisoo asks as he removes his jacket.

Jeonghan hums thoughtfully. “I was feeling anime.”

Jisoo groans inwardly. Anime is Jeonghan’s code for alerting him that they’re going to have a “serious talk.” Well, at least there’s popcorn, Jisoo reasons against his immediate instinct to run away.

He takes the bowl from Jeonghan, willing himself not to stomp all the way to the couch. “I hope you popped more than two bags.”

They get about three episodes in, Jisoo’s legs in Jeonghan’s lap, before Jeonghan decides it’s as good a time as any to begin his interrogation. And in perfect Jeonghan style, he wastes no words in getting straight to the point, a gentle squeeze to his calf the only warning Jisoo gets before he’s at Jeonghan’s will.

“Are you gonna tell me why you don’t want us to have lunch tomorrow?”

Jisoo’s first mode of defense against Jeonghan is to always deny everything, no matter how strong the case is against him. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he counters, “You haven’t been the biggest advocate for this thing. And yesterday –” Jeonghan stops, takes both his hands before continuing, “Jisoo, I want you to talk to me. Tell me why you’ve been so against this.”

“I’m not against this,” whatever _this_ is, Jisoo thinks, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

There’s a beat of silence where Jisoo knows Jeonghan is deciding whether he believes the conversation is worth continuing. Jeonghan’s thumbs tracing patterns on his knuckles are meant to be soothing. The three light taps to his skin after is more of a warning.

“I talked to Seokmin.”

“Oh, great.” Jeonghan really isn’t one to beat around any bushes when he’s got his mind set on something, but it doesn’t stop Jisoo from yanking his hands back, standing up to turn away from him. At least like this, Jisoo can pretend that Jeonghan can’t read all the thoughts that materialize in his head before he can even make sense of them himself.

Still, Jeonghan persists. “He told me what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Jisoo snaps.

“Really, Shua? Cause you’re doing exactly what you do when you’re running away from something.”

Jisoo suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “You would know.”

Jisoo hears Jeonghan stand up, counts the three steps it takes for him to crowd his space. “I would know. I _do_ know.” Jeonghan argues and Jisoo feels the arms that wrap around him from behind, the warm breath against the back of his neck. And he hates that he finds no comfort in Jeonghan’s words. “Because I know you, Jisoo. And I thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I’m not going to just up and leave you. You’re my best friend. Meeting Seungcheol isn’t going to change that.”

There’s a lot left to say, but Jisoo can’t work through his thoughts to form the sentences he needs. So, he lets Jeonghan hold him, whisper promises in his ear that carry nothing against the force of Jisoo’s uncertainty of what’s to come after tomorrow.

***

Jisoo knocks relentlessly, hoping that every rap on the door conveys even just a portion of his anger to Seokmin on the other side. He’s so focused on maintaining a strong and constant cadence that he misses when the door is swung open and his fist nearly lands on Seokmin’s face. But Jisoo doesn’t have time to feel sorry for almost hitting someone he believes deserves it at this point.

“You talked to Jeonghan?”

“I did,” Seokmin answers calmly, which only infuriates Jisoo more. “Also, this apartment has a no yelling policy,” he continues before stepping back to let Jisoo past the threshold, “I wish you’d respect that.”

He can. The initial yelling allowed Jisoo to dispel some of the hostility he was harboring against his neighbor since he left Jeonghan’s but now he just wants to know –

“Why?”

“Because hardly anything gets accomplished when people are yelling at each other and I also can’t stand –”

Jisoo sighs. “I meant Jeonghan.”

“Oh. Well,” The way Seokmin smirks makes him think he knew just as much and Jisoo starts to feel a bit of that hostility making its return. He spots a tiger plushie on the floor and focuses on that instead of his growing want to throw something at a wall. “He came to me. And I was hoping someone could talk some sense into you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Jisoo spits back, “I wish you’d respect _that._ ”

The mix of surprise and hurt on Seokmin’s face almost makes Jisoo not want to walk away. Almost.

***

Wednesday awakens Jisoo with a fresh wave of guilt that’s been magnified to accommodate for his outburst at Seokmin last night. He knows it was wrong to lash out, and as he leaves their apartment complex, he makes sure to leave a bag of gummies by Seokmin’s apartment door, along with a note taped to the front. 

Now all Jisoo has to do is avoid him all day so Seokmin doesn’t get the chance to plant any ideas into his head about his lunch with Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

Ideas about how Jisoo is being irrational, letting his wild imagination take him places that only exist in parallel universes and his nightmares. Except it’s really not all that crazy to think that Seungcheol and Jeonghan will become better friends with each other than they are with him. It’s happened before, and it will happen again. Jisoo is sure about it, because his presence is only ever temporary in everyone’s lives but his parents. And he can’t afford to lose another best friend, let alone two.

The thought still raises the hair on his arms and the back of his neck to make him feel like someone is watching him, judging him for having doubts.

“You could’ve just told me.”

Jisoo exerts the full amount of his self-control so he doesn’t scream and cuts his eyes the man now walking beside him. Seungcheol’s there, arms folded and a sly grin on his face because he always gets a kick out of sneaking up on people.

Jisoo rolls his eyes. “How long have you been following me?”

“You really should pay more attention to your surroundings, Soo.” Seungcheol knocks their elbows together before wrapping an arm around Jisoo’s shoulders. “Anything could happen, and you wouldn’t realize till it was too late because you’re always in that beautiful head of yours.”

“I pay enough attention to know that your class is all the way across campus.” Jisoo shrugs Seungcheol’s arm off only for him to hook a finger in one of Jisoo’s belt loops. Jisoo sighs. “Why are you following me?”

“I was told you were a flight risk." The _by Seokmin_ is implied and lets Jisoo know that his earlier efforts were futile. He feels the same sharp pain in his chest that he did yesterday, the miniscule spark of irritation at his neighbor’s slack tongue and easy connections. He grabs Seungcheol’s sleeve and pulls him into a corner in the hallway.

“I’m not a flight risk,” Jisoo hisses.

“I know.” Seungcheol says, linking their pinkies together, quickly calming Jisoo’s nerves and replacing his trifling anger with a level wave of understanding. “But I’ve already committed to skipping my morning classes,” he adds, and the wave washes over Jisoo, frigid and unrelenting.

“Cheol, you don’t have to –”

“I have committed.” Seungcheol’s eyes glint in that way Jisoo knows means he’s already lost this fight. So, he sighs, hands Seungcheol the textbook he’s carrying (because he hates carrying things in his hands while he’s walking) and continues on his way to class.

Seungcheol returns his book when they reach their destination, one of his hands catching Jisoo’s on the exchange. They both stare at where their fingers weave together. Where Seungcheol looks on fondly, Jisoo can’t ignore the churning in his gut. It feels like Seungcheol is stalling, like there’s something he wants to say but they don’t have the time. Jisoo probably only has about a minute before his professor begins taking attendance.

He gives Seungcheol about thirty more seconds of aimless fiddling before he takes his hand back. Jisoo watches Seungcheol’s fist clench air once, twice before it drops and Seungcheol smiles, big enough to where there’s a dimple on each cheek and wrinkles on the corners of his eyes.

Jisoo clears the lump in his throat. “This is a small class, so you’ll have to sit outside.”

“I know,” Seungcheol parrots from earlier, a hint of smugness in his voice because this isn’t the first time he’s been outside this classroom waiting for Jisoo.

Jisoo points to the bench across from the entrance. “Just sit.”

They repeat this pattern for Jisoo’s biology lecture, except Seungcheol gets the chance to follow him into the hall since the roster is so large. His boredom makes itself known every minute of the lecture as Jisoo tries to focus on the Krebs cycle while Seungcheol hums cartoon theme songs and doodles in the margins of Jisoo’s notebook.

“You should’ve just gone to class,” Jisoo grumbles on the way out, trying not to notice every pair of eyes that cuts his way. He stuffs his materials inside his bag to make sure his hands are free. “it’s the next building over.”

“I committed,” Seungcheol says, a sly grin making Jisoo apprehensive. 

Jisoo wrinkles his nose when he realizes that’s exactly what Seungcheol wants. “Why does it seem like you’re trying to be cryptic?”

Seungcheol shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. His shoulders stay up a second longer than necessary and Jisoo can tell there’s something he’s not saying.

Then everything clicks.

“Seokmin told you, too, didn’t he?” Jisoo demands, shoving the stairway door with more force than necessary, only feeling slightly apologetic when Seungcheol flinches at the noise.

“He didn’t tell me anything, but –” Jisoo attempts to speed walk down the stairs and out the building but Seungcheol grabs his arm, slowing him to a stop just as the door closes behind them and they’re met with the buzz of campus life. Seungcheol moves close, forcing Jisoo to look at him and see his concern. “I’m a math major,” he continues, “I know when things don’t add up.”

That’s a non sequitur if he ever heard one and Jisoo bites down on the urge to roll his eyes.

“This really isn’t the time,” he warns, pulling his arm away, “Just say what you’ve been wanting to say since you saw me this morning.”

Seungcheol blinks and takes a step back, hands hanging listless at his side.

He opens and closes his mouth twice before he eventually speaks. “There’s something bothering you about me and Jeonghan meeting.”

“That’s not –”

Seungcheol reaches out and squeezes Jisoo’s nose, effectively stopping whatever evasion was on the tip of his tongue. With his free hand, Seungcheol motions, reminding Jisoo to take deep breaths through his mouth.

“Pinocchio,” Seungcheol says, reminding Jisoo that he can’t lie.

Frowning, Jisoo wraps a hand around Seungcheol’s arm that’s still connected to his face via nose abuse. Seungcheol’s releases the pressure and wraps his hand around Jisoo’s neck instead.

And Jisoo breathes.

“It’s just – y’all are so – I don’t know.” Well, he tried.

Seungcheol considers Jisoo for a moment before cocking his head to the side.

“You do know. You just aren’t ready to say it out loud yet, I guess,” Seungcheol comments, “But you’ve got about five minutes till we reach Don’s, and I think that’s a good chunk of time for you to work up to it.” He turns away and continues walking down the sidewalk towards Don’s Kitchen.

Jisoo matches his stride. “Why can’t you just let me suffer in silence?” He calls out.

“Because,” Seungcheol muses. He’s only a few steps ahead of Jisoo but his voice still carries back, warm like the air around them, “then I wouldn’t be the best friend you need me to be.”

Jisoo chews on that for a moment, trying to figure out why it doesn’t reassure him the way Seungcheol believed it might. 

“You and Jeonghan…” Jisoo hates that he pauses. He hates that even after having this discussion three times, and having thought about it _countless_ times, and while they are literally walking to the lunch venue, he _still_ hasn’t come to terms with what is about to happen.

Or rather, he has come to terms, it just shakes him to his very core that he can’t do anything to stop it.

It all comes back to control. And lately, Jisoo has been feeling out of it.

He opens his mouth again – tries to will the right words to come out.

“You guys are gonna hit it off,” he starts, not really sure where he’s going to end up, “You’re gonna meet and it’s going to be like all the stars have aligned and the fates are singing, and the heavens have opened up –”

“You’re losing me.”

Jisoo’s step falters. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Seungcheol doubles back, hands already reaching for Jisoo’s shoulders. “No, Soo. I meant with all the angel references.” His voice rings with the tail end of his laughter before it softens. “This is because of what happened with Wonwoo isn’t it? This is different, and you know it.”

Jisoo wants to believe him, but Seungcheol wasn’t there. He’s only _heard_ about the misplaced guilt that kept Jisoo from socializing, the intolerable shame of being replaced. So easy like he never mattered at all to begin with.

That was years ago. And Jisoo now understands that friends come and go, more so lovers.

But.

“I’m still the same Jisoo,” he breathes to the ground.

Seungcheol loops his arms around Jisoo, pulling him closer. “The same Jisoo who I love and will never replace no matter how many angels start singing.”

Jisoo sighs against his chest, but it’s light, kind of feels like he’s expelling all his excess worry.

“It’s the fates who are singing, Cheol,” he corrects half-heartedly. Jisoo feels the vibrations of Seungcheol’s silent chuckle and it makes him smile too.

“No matter whoever is singing.” Seungcheol amends before letting out a contemplative hum. “Unless Jeonghan can sing, I think that’ll be a game changer.”

Jisoo pinches his side, satisfied when Seungcheol whines in mock pain. “Shut up! It’s too soon.”

“Are you feeling better about this?”

Jisoo nods at Seungcheol’s question.

“I am.”

“Good. Because I think I might hear those fates.”

Jisoo lifts his head from Seungcheol’s chest, confused by the sudden lilt in his voice. Seungcheol isn’t looking at Jisoo, but somewhere behind him and Jisoo already knows what he’s going to turn around and see. And he also knows he said just a moment ago that he was okay with all this, but now that _all this_ is actively happening, Jisoo wants to disappear on the spot.

“I think that’s my best friend you’ve got attached to your chest,” Jeonghan says, announcing his arrival in typical Jeonghan fashion – all natural charm and ease that already has Seungcheol a shade redder and Jisoo back on guard.

Seungcheol moves from behind Jisoo and offers a hand. “Jeonghan,” he starts, but then stops altogether when Jeonghan uses both hands to grasp his.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Seungcheol.”

As far as introductions go, Jisoo first thinks the ones he imagined were always more climactic – what with all of the angels and galaxy phenomena and such. But as the seconds tick by and neither Seungcheol nor Jeonghan show any signs of breaking contact, Jisoo starts to feel that excess worry creep back in.

So, he clears his throat, effectively shattering whatever forces kept them static. Jeonghan releases Seungcheol's hand and he takes a step back. They both look to Jisoo. 

“I’ll, uh,” Seungcheol sputters, glancing around before motioning to the door next to them, “go in and let them know we’re here.”

Jisoo looks at the door Seungcheol disappears through and squints. When had they arrived?

“Is it just me,” Jeonghan queries, “or did it seem like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough?” Despite his question, Jeonghan’s voice hold no suspicions. Instead Jisoo hears the tell-tale breathiness of interest stirring around his words. 

“It was probably the singing,” Jisoo mutters idly. 

Jeonghan blinks, puzzled. The dreamlike quality is gone from his voice when he lets out a confused, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jisoo replies, running a hand roughly through his hair, “Are you ready to get this over with?”

Jeonghan studies his face for a moment before raising a hand to fix a stray hair in Jisoo’s fringe. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jisoo parries, though he knows exactly what Jeonghan is thinking.

Jeonghan shifts his eyes between Jisoo and the door. “Oh, I could think of a few reasons.”

Jisoo doesn’t respond, just lets Jeonghan lead him into the restaurant, arms linked at the elbow. Seungcheol is waving at them from a booth across the room, face warm and inviting like the summer tides.

Jisoo pokes Jeonghan’s side, reclaiming his attention.

“So, I’m a flight risk?”

Jeonghan laughs and shakes his head. “Seokmin’s words, not mine.”

Jisoo wonders if it’s too late to take back his apology letter.

***

Jisoo takes a seat next to Seungcheol in the booth they’re given. That leaves Jeonghan with a side entirely to himself. Jisoo finds this setup works best to his advantage. Because while he can decipher exactly what Seungcheol is feeling by only the slope of his shoulders, the subtle lilt in his voice, the anxious tapping of his heels, Jeonghan’s eyes are the only part of him that gives anything away.

It’s quiet as they all avoid eye contact by picking up their menus. Jisoo wonders if it’s awkward for them like it is for him. They both know, courtesy of his loud-mouthed neighbor, that he might’ve harbored a bit of resistance to these plans – only a tiny bit. And so, he wonders if they’re purposefully not speaking, choosing to wait for Jisoo to steer them to wherever place he thinks is safe enough waters for them to anchor in for the next hour or so.

He catches Jeonghan’s eyes peeking at him from above the rim of his menu and he sighs before nudging Seungcheol with his elbow, neither softly nor discreet. If Seungcheol wanted to get them all here, then it should be his job to thaw the ice.

Understanding the hint, Seungcheol lowers his menu and clears his throat. “I want to thank you both for coming,” he says as he folds his hands on the table, and Jisoo almost buries his face in his own.

“This sounds like the opening to a business meeting,” Jeonghan comments, a smile hiding behind his water glass.

Jisoo bumps Seungcheol playfully with his shoulder. “Yeah, Cheol. Why are you being so serious?”

“I said one sentence,” Seungcheol mumbles around a pout, slumping his shoulders and hanging his head. Jisoo knows he’s not really upset – but that’s because he’s been around him for longer than five minutes. Jeonghan on the other hand…

Jeonghan is leaning across the table, unaware that he’s nearly standing, and his eyes are locked on Seungcheol. He reaches out a hand and taps Seungcheol’s chin, making him look up again, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Keep going,” Jeonghan says in a tone that Jisoo knows he doesn’t normally use with strangers. It’s delicate and reassuring, similar to when Jisoo curls into his side and unloads all his problems between action scenes and episode breaks. And yet, Jisoo hears it now and it’s a bit unnerving.

It takes a moment for Seungcheol to recover himself. He leans away from Jeonghan and more towards Jisoo, his body seeming to move on instinct.

“As I was saying, you both helped me prove a very important point.” Seungcheol glances at both of them before settling on Jeonghan. His eyes following mindfully as Jeonghan sits back properly in his seat. “So, this is my way of showing thanks,” he trails off, losing momentum somewhere in the intense stare-off he and Jeonghan are having.

Jisoo might have thought himself a fly on the wall if not for one of Seungcheol’s hands gripping his thigh. And there’s a foot in constant contact with his shin that he can tell is Jeonghan’s because of the angle. 

It’s a weird sensation, juggling the different energies existing in this small space between the three of them.

It’s Jeonghan who responds first, a light tap to Jisoo’s leg his own way of seeking support.

“Normally, I’d just invite a guy to buy me a drink, but you’ve already agreed to buy me an entire lunch,” he boasts, though not to undermine anyone’s gratitude.

Seungcheol shrugs, non-plussed. “Why start small?”

“Why start at all?” Jeonghan’s voice pitches that much higher as his eyes come alight with fierce curiosity.

Seungcheol’s hand clenches around Jisoo’s, tight enough to make his veins visible through his skin. “I thought it was time we finally met.”

“Am I everything you thought I would be?” Jeonghan asks, leaning forward on both elbows, chin resting in his hands.

Seungcheol shakes his head, mesmerized – Jisoo can tell. “Not at all.”

Jeonghan finally meets Jisoo’s stare and smiles. Another light tap to his shin tells Jisoo that he should maybe check the stars tonight.

***

There’s a knock at his door – three raps in quick succession to remind Jisoo that he is indeed still in the land of the living and that his lunch with _them_ wasn’t some hyper realistic dream he experienced due to high levels of stress and lack of sleep.

There’s only one person who ever knocks on his door as if each moment of contact is a matter of life and death and Jisoo is not really in the mood to talk about feelings right now. So, he ignores the knocking along with the ringing from his phone. He knows it can be heard through the thin walls of his apartment, but it doesn’t motivate him to leave the comfort of his sofa where he’s lying alone in the dark, hoping that somehow he’ll find a way to undo the last twenty-two years of his life.

It only takes three rings for Seokmin to decide he’s going to open the door anyway and bear witness to Jisoo deteriorating into nothing – at least that’s what he hopes will happen if he spends just a few more hours trying to amalgamate into the fabric.

Jisoo doesn’t verbally acknowledge Seokmin’s presence in his apartment. He just waits for him to come barreling around the edge of his sofa till his view is obstructed by a pair of long legs and a folded sheet of paper with his handwriting on it.

Jisoo silently turns his head to look up at the ceiling instead.

Seokmin sighs before lowering himself on the floor, back against the sofa and knees pulled up to his chest. His head is at Jisoo’s stomach, the perfect distance for Jisoo to comb his fingers through his hair. Much like how Seokmin – and Seuncheol and Jeonghan – does for him. Jisoo decides against it and keeps his hands clasped behind his head for good measure.

“You didn’t come to class.”

Jisoo contemplates not replying, but he’s tired of not talking and, like it or not, Seokmin _is_ his in-house – or in-apartment complex – therapist.

Truth is, there’s a lot of reasons he didn’t go to class. He could tell Seokmin any one of them and it wouldn’t be a lie.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” Is what Jisoo settles on, though, because knowing what his problems are is already a weight on his own back. Making a conscious decision to bring someone else into the mix poses more consequences than Jisoo can help to think of in the moment. But then, Seokmin has always been a part of this.

And like the great friend he is, Seokmin pushes even further, digging a deeper tunnel to the root of Jisoo’s pensiveness.

“Physically, mentally, or emotionally?” Seokmin asks. His voice sounds nearer than before and Jisoo spares a look down to see that Seokmin is now sitting cross legged near his shoulder, his expression molded into careful concern.

Jisoo taps his chest, then leaves his hand there just to make sure his heart is still beating, and that he hasn’t been reborn in the darkness as some other creature without feelings. But of course, he still has a heart, or he wouldn’t be in so much pain.

“Was it,” Seokmin pauses, wrinkling his nose, “you know who?”

Jisoo blinks. “Oh my god,” he huffs between a broken laugh. “You can say their names.”

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if we were avoiding the topic or not.” Seokmin motions to the room. “You _were_ doing the whole moping-in-the-dark-in-the-middle-of-the-day thing.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Jisoo mutters.

Seokmin scoffs, moving closer till their noses are almost touching. A small sound escapes from his throat. “I can still see the tear streaks on your face.”

“I wasn’t crying!” Jisoo swats his face away, but Seokmin catches his hand, shooting him a pleading look.

“C’mon,” he whispers, the perfect decibel level to find its way through all of Jisoo’s defenses. “Tell me what happened.”

Jisoo’s eyes fall to where their hands are touching. “Nothing happened,” he admits, “We just talked. They exchanged contact. Gonna see each other again on Saturday.”

“That sounds good. What do you guys have planned?” Seokmin asks, voice laced with controlled excitement.

Something shifts in Jisoo’s stomach. “We don’t have anything planned.”

Seokmin’s smile fades.

“Oh. I just thought –”

“ _We_ don’t have anything planned,” Jisoo continues, “because it’s just _them_.”

Jisoo sees the moment Seokmin understands, but he has to say it anyway – the words that have been eating away at him since he walked out of Don’s Kitchen.

“They’re going on a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half of this on zero hours of sleep and a can of redbull. I have been told that it shows.


End file.
